She couldn’t now he had told her to, and her brief exploration came to an abrupt end, her face scarlet. She looked at him helplessly, her newfound confidence deserting her.
Luke sat up, leaning on one elbow to look down at her. ‘Let me take off this ridiculous trifle,’ he caressed her body through the thinness of her gown. ‘I want to be closer to you.’
Her husky laugh caught in her throat. ‘We can’t be much closer!’
‘Oh yes, we can.’ The nightgown was quickly dispensed with and he set about showing her just how much closer they could be.
Sophie’s relative inexperience didn’t seem to trouble Luke as he took her to the very edge of a sensual abyss. And then he took her over, well over, her one feeling of pain soon forgotten as a feeling of exquisite joy invaded every pore of her body. That Luke knew of her pleasure she had no doubt, conscious of a more urgent thrusting of his own body as he brought them both to trembling fulfilment, his body weightless above her.
They lay exhausted in each other’s arms, their naked bodies still joined. Sophie had never known such pleasure, never felt she completely belonged to anyone before. And she hadn’t. None of the tentative kisses she had received from Nicholas and boys like him compared to anything like the complete devastation she had just passed through with Luke.
His arms clamped about her as she stirred against him. ‘Be still,’ he commanded. ‘You are not to leave me.’
‘I wasn’t going to.’ She snuggled against him.
‘Good.’ He held her against him and she felt the desire ebbing back into his body. ‘The night is far from over.’
And it was. Luke took her once more in the night, as before raising her to the heights so that she was clinging and weak in his arms. But not once did any words of tenderness or love pass his lips, his only interest seeming to be in her body and the pleasure he could extract from it.
But by the time she woke in his arms late in the morning she knew herself to be deeply in love with her husband, had half known it before their marriage, but now knew it with a certainty that would never pass. She was married to the one man she would ever love, and she had no way of knowing how he really felt about her.
She slipped out of the bed, pulling on Luke’s towelling robe to wander out on to the balcony. Paris was still as beautiful by day, although not as seducing. She knew she had pleased Luke physically, had known he found her response to him exciting, but she had no way of knowing how long that was going to last.
She melted back against him as she felt his arms go about her from behind. She rubbed her head against his chin. ‘I thought you were asleep,’ she turned to smile at him.
‘When you are not beside me?’ He kissed her throat. ‘Come back to bed, Mrs Vittorio,’ he ordered huskily.
‘Certainly not!’ she laughed softly. ‘It’s very late in the morning, and we haven’t even had breakfast yet.’
‘I was just about to partake of mine—you.’
She twisted out of his arms, finding she could still blush as she saw his nakedness. Of course, she was wearing his bathrobe! ’I think you’ve had me enough for one day.’
He shook his head. ‘I have not had you at all today—last night was a different matter.’
She looked at him shyly. ‘But aren’t you exhausted?’
‘From making love to you? Never. Are you?’
Strangely enough she wasn’t, feeling refreshed by the physical love he had shown her at least. She shook her head wordlessly.
Luke opened his arms to her. ‘Then come to me, Sophie. If you must think of mundane things like food we will have lunch later—much later.’
She burrowed against him. ‘I’m not really hungry either.’
‘I did not say I was not hungry,’ he growled. ‘But my hunger is of a different kind.’
‘You’re insatiable,’ she blushed.
‘Yes,’ he agreed willingly.
It had gone one o’clock when they finally called down for lunch. Sophie felt sure the waiter was looking at them knowingly as he served their meal to them on the balcony, although she knew there was no evidence of the night they had just spent in the now tidied order of her bedroom. Luke looked as confident as ever, ignoring the waiter and seeming to have eyes only for her.
‘Oh, Luke!’ she coloured delicately once they were alone. ‘I’m sure he knew.’
Luke sipped his wine. ‘Knew what, cara?’
‘That we—that we had—’
‘Just got out of bed,’ he finished teasingly. ‘But we have.’
‘I know. But—well, I—It—’
‘Do not blush so, Sophie. It is normal to be this way on one’s honeymoon.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘You are too sensitive. Paris was made for love.’
For love, yes, but did they have love? She very much doubted it. If their fevered lovemaking of last night had not brought any words of love from him then she didn’t think anything else ever would. She was an attractive female to him, someone he desired, and the fact that she was his wife simply gave him access to her any time he chose.
Right now, after the night and morning they had just shared, she should be basking in Luke’s love, instead of which she was still uncertain of him in every way. Physical pleasure couldn’t hope to replace the love she craved, no matter how satisfying it could be.
‘Do not look so worried, Sophie,’ Luke said lightly. ‘No one is going to reprimand you for spending the morning in bed with your husband.’
‘It’s just so embarrassing that everyone should know.’
‘They would know anyway.’ He fed her a grape from the bowl in the middle of the table. ‘You have that certain look about you.’
‘The look of your possession.’
‘If you like, yes.’
Oh, she liked—she liked his possession of her too much for her peace of mind. It was as she had known it would be, she felt fired by his every touch, while he gave every indication of being able to control his desire for her, was able to control it and master it if necessary. Never once during their lovemaking had he given in to his own passion until he was sure she had found satisfaction, never once losing control as completely as she had.
‘Do you believe me now?’ she asked shyly.
‘About what, cara?’
‘About—about Nicholas, about this mythical baby.’
‘Ah, yes. You were telling the truth, you could not be carrying anyone’s child before yesterday. You were untouched.’
‘And if I hadn’t been—untouched, I mean? If you couldn’t be convinced that way that there was no baby?’
‘Time would have shown one way or the other.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Why do you persist in these questions, Sophie? They are irrelevant.’
‘Not to me.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it isn’t. What would you have done if you had—if you had made love to me last night and found I had had other lovers?’
‘I do not know.’
‘Yes, you do. Tell me, Luke,’ she pleaded.
‘Very well,’ he said impatiently. ‘If that had been the case, in the light of what Rosemary disclosed yesterday, we would have returned to London today. I had already warned you I did not want a wife who had been with other men, especially a wife who could be carrying another man’s child. But I now know that is not true, so it does not apply.’
‘I see,’ she bit her lip. ‘But our marriage would have ended?’
‘Of course,’ he said haughtily.
That was what she had thought. Luke would have convicted her on such flimsy evidence as an omission on the part of nature and perhaps one misdemeanour in her distant past. The thought made her heart heavy.
‘Drink your coffee, Sophie,’ he encouraged, ’and then I will take you sightseeing.’
She automatically did as he said, knowing that she was here now only because she had never been tempted to give herself to another man in the past. It wasn’t a ve
ry comforting thought.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEY spent ten idyllic days and nights in Paris, Luke deciding to stay on an extra couple of days at the last minute. Sophie had found it amazing at the time that the hotel management had somehow managed to accommodate them at short notice when they were turning other people away. Luke’s powerful influence, no doubt.
The honeymoon had been everything any girl could wish for, although she really couldn’t say she had seen much of Paris itself. It had only taken a word or look from either of them to spark the flame of desire that never seemed to be far away for them to be back in bed together, their bodies entwined.
The flight back to England had been short and uneventful, but not filled with the cold reserve Luke had treated her to on the flight out. They had talked together, laughed together, and Sophie couldn’t help wondering if she was being silly to feel apprehensive about their return to everyday life. After all, all honeymoon couples had to face the same upheaval, the wondering if the honeymoon period was indeed over. And she did have one advantage over a lot of women; Luke worked at home, making it possible for her to see him at any time.
She looked up now as he walked unnannounced into the bathroom as she took a shower to freshen her up after the flight, her initial shyness with him long forgotten in their continual lovemaking. She smiled at him through the spray from the shower, aware that he was saying something to her but unable to hear him above the noise of the falling water. She shook her head, shrugging her puzzlement.
She gasped as he stepped fully clothed into the shower beside her, her senses spinning as he took the soap from her unresisting fingers and began to soap her body all over. ‘You’re mad, Luke,’ she laughed huskily. ‘Your clothes—they’re ruined!’ The white shirt and trousers were in fact clinging to him like a second skin, his body seducing her through the wet material.
He discarded the soap and backed her up against the wall, her body moulded to his. ‘You could not hear what I was saying.’
Sophie spluttered with laughter. ‘But I would have been out of here in a moment.’
Luke switched off the running water, the urgency of his body communicating itself to her as they clung together. ‘It would not have been soon enough for me,’ he kissed her wet lips, licking the droplets of water from her face. ‘I want you now,’ he groaned, lifting her up into his arms and carrying her into the bedroom they were to share.
‘But my parents, Luke,’ she offered a token resistance as he lowered her on to the bed. ‘They’re expecting us for tea.’
He shrugged, stripping off his wet clothes. ‘So we will arrive for dinner instead. I have not made love to you for over five hours.’
‘Oh, Luke!’ she laughed, raising her arms to him invitingly as he stood before her naked.
Hours later she stirred against him, not wanting to remind him of their promise to visit her parents but knowing they couldn’t leave it any later to go.
Luke put a restraining hand on her thigh as she made a move to swing her legs to the floor. ‘Where are you going?’
‘We must go now, Luke.’
‘Not yet.’ He pulled her back into his arms, kissing her druggingly. ‘We do not have to leave yet,’ he moaned softly against her throat.
Sophie fought for some control over her senses, struggling to hold back the rising of her own desire. ‘We must, Luke,’ she insisted. ‘Don’t you ever tire of making love to me?’
‘No,’ his hand rested possessively on her breast.
‘But we seem to have done nothing else since we married.’
His mouth tightened into a grim line, his eyes suddenly cold. He stood up. ‘You are bored with my lovemaking,’ he said abruptly.
‘No! I—’
‘Do not make matters any worse,’ he snapped. ‘I had forgotten that for the English the end of the honeymoon means the end of the more enjoyable part of physical love, that we must become more conventional, save our desire for the night hours.’
‘Please, I didn’t mean—’
He put up a hand to silence her. ‘I will endeavour to show more control in future. Get dressed now and we will be on our way.’
She had angered him, she knew that, and he wouldn’t give her a chance to explain herself. Far from being bored with his lovemaking she felt it was the only thing holding them together. If he took that away from her she would have nothing of him at all.
It was indeed dinner time when they reached her parents’ house, and Martin showed them into the lounge where her father and Rosemary were waiting for them.
Sophie ran into her father’s arms, suddenly his little girl again. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she said through a mist of tears.
Rosemary received her kiss on the cheek coolly. ‘You aren’t supposed to miss your father on your honeymoon,’ she said dryly.
Sophie blushed at the rebuke, conscious of the censure in Luke’s eyes too. She hadn’t meant that remark the way it sounded, hadn’t in fact been conscious of missing her father until this moment. ‘I didn’t mean—’
‘She did not mean she had missed him that much,’ Luke cut in tauntingly. ‘I did not give her the time for that.’
‘Yes, well…’ her father cleared his throat noisily. ‘We expected you earlier than this.’
Luke’s deep brown eyes mocked her flushed face. ‘Sophie was a little tired after our journey. I thought it better for her to—rest.’
A dark red hue appeared in her father’s cheeks as he accurately read Luke’s implication. ‘I—er—Rosemary tells me that there could be a—a reason for Sophie to rest right now.’
Sophie was horrified. ‘No! That isn’t—’
‘It is a possibility,’ Luke interrupted calmly.
She gave him a sharp look. ‘But we—’
‘Especially now,’ he continued smoothly.
She paled. She supposed it was a possibility, more than a possibility. A family had never been discussed by them and so consequently they had taken no precaution not to have one. How ironic if she should fall pregnant now, how very ironic!
‘So you could be going to be a grandfather,’ Rosemary taunted her husband.
‘It would also make you a grandmother,’ Sophie put in sweetly.
Rosemary gave her a look of irritation. ‘Of course it wouldn’t! A step-grandmother, perhaps…’
‘No child could come out with a mouthful like that,’ Luke said with humour.
‘I’m glad you find the prospect of fatherhood so amusing,’ Rosemary snapped. ‘It would certainly make a difference to your life-style.’
He looked unperturbed by her outburst. ‘Marriage has already done that.’
‘I—er—I suggest we all go in to dinner,’ Simon put in mildly.
Sophie was very quiet through dinner, Rosemary and Luke seeming to have got over their brief antagonism, her stepmother dazzling the two men with her charm and sparkling wit.
There was a certain coolness between herself and Luke as they prepared for bed. She watched him in the mirror as she brushed her long golden hair, watched him and realised this was the longest period since their first night of marriage that Luke hadn’t made love to her. And already she felt desolate.
Her desolation increased as Luke turned over on his side once they were in the huge double bed together, his back turned firmly against her, the room in darkness. ‘Luke?’ she queried when she could stand the silence no longer. ‘Luke, are you asleep?’
‘Not yet,’ came his muffled reply
‘Are you going to sleep?’
He sighed. ‘That is usually the idea when one goes to bed.’
‘But I—Don’t you want me?’ She could make out his bare back in the darkness, longing for the closeness of him, the male dominance of him.
‘I thought you were tired?’
She sniffed miserably. ‘I am, I suppose.’
Still he didn’t move. ‘You do not sound very sure.’
‘I’m not, I—Why are you doing this?’ She sat up in the bed
, switching on her sidelamp. ‘Because of that stupid argument we had this afternoon?’ she demanded. ‘But you must know I didn’t mean it that way.’
He turned to face her. ‘And this?’ he indicated the chiffon nightgown she wore. ‘Was this not meant as a deterrent?’
She gave a nervous laugh. ‘Don’t be silly!’
‘You have not worn such a garment since our wedding night.’
‘I know. But it just seemed—You haven’t been very approachable tonight.’
‘So you chose to wear that.’ His disgust was obvious.
‘Are you still angry with me?’ There was a note of pleading in her voice.
‘I was not angry, merely respecting your wishes. Oh, go to sleep, Sophie.’ He turned on his side again. ‘I would welcome a good night’s sleep even if you would not.’
That put her firmly in her place. She turned slowly and switched off the light. She had made the first move and Luke had made it obvious he didn’t want her. She wouldn’t try again.
Sleep was a long time coming to her, her misery unshakeable. Luke fell asleep quickly, by the slow even tone of his breathing, making her resentment grow. She didn’t think she could stand this marriage if Luke’s physical warmth was to be denied her as well as everything else; it was the only thing that made this situation bearable.
She awoke to feel hands running caressingly over her body, hands she recognised only too well. She turned into Luke’s arms, raising her face automatically for his kiss. ‘Mm,’ she snuggled into him. ‘I thought you didn’t want me tonight.’
‘I was wrong,’ he growled. ‘Perhaps in a few weeks’ time I will be able to sleep meekly at your side, but not yet—not yet!’ he growled, disposing of her nightgown by ripping it from her body. ‘And there will be no more of those,’ he said at her gasp of dismay. ‘I will keep you warm or you will remain cold.’
‘Yes, Luke,’ she smiled up at him dreamily.
‘Do not be meek with me, Sophie, not tonight,’ he said harshly. ‘That is not what I want from you.’
There was nothing meek about their lovemaking that night; they hurt and loved each other until they fell into a deep exhausted sleep.
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